A Lily By Any Other Name
by tea and frangipani
Summary: Lily Evans, in her many incarnations: the hidden beauty, the American makeover, ancient magic, a bet gone bad, Slytherin friendships, prank wars, pickup lines, parenting projects, time travel, and more… series of oneshots
1. What Is This Feeling?

**Title: **A Lily By Any Other Name  
**Author: **tea and frangipani  
**Category: **Drama, Romance  
**Distribution: **Fanfiction  
**Rating:** G (FR13) to M (FR18)  
**Spoilers: **Anything from PH to DH is fair game.  
**Disclaimer: **'A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend.' Harry Potter and co. belongs to JK Rowling, Warner Bros., and ect. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.  
**Summary: **Lily Evans, in her many incarnations: the hidden beauty, the American makeover, ancient magic, a bet gone bad, Slytherin friendships, prank wars, pickup lines, parenting projects, and more… series of oneshots

**A/N:** My first ship ever was J/L. I still love it but well-written fics with the pairing are hard to find, y'know? Anyways, I don't have the time or energy to write out fics for every plot bunny that hops by, so I'm slowly killing them off one by one in this fic (I sound so violent!). So here are some one-shots; some of them are clichés I'm dying to try my hand at and some are just pointless exercises in futility. If anyone is somehow inspired (which I find doubtful, but it _could_ happen) and wants to continue/borrow the idea, please by all means feel free. Just drop me a PM so I can read it! Right now I'm on a HUGE kick on anything Marauders. Please, please, _please_ recommend fics – I don't care about pairings or canon, as long as it is well written and, well, _good!_ This first instalment features American!Cousin, Makeover!Lily, Underage!Drinking, and other lovely exclamation marks (James! Petunia! Wedding! etcetera) If you haven't noticed, I don't have an ounce of creativity in my body so I just reuse tired clichés. It started out as an exploration of Lily and Petunia's relationship as sisters and ended as crack. What can I say?

**Chapter One: What Is This Feeling? James Potter Edition**

"I can't believe Petunia got married to such an _ignorant slob!" _Lily wailed, as she watched her sister dance with her new husband. Petunia looked radiant in her white wedding dress, while Vernon looked corpulent in his too-tight tuxedo, which resulted in an unfortunate bulging, strapped-in look. Lily would have been able to overlook his less than desirable physical attributes, if his personality was not wanting in so many different ways! The sad fact of the matter was that Petunia had married a man Lily absolutely could not stand. His opinions were belligerent and ill-founded; he was facing a dead-end career; he ate far too much but thought himself the most handsome man in the room; but the worst crime, in Lily's mind, was that he had absolutely no intelligence, none at all. He had nothing to recommend him, yet Lily found herself smiling and nodding at his jokes, if only for her sister's sake. After all, Lily thought morosely, love is blind, and if Petunia was able to overlook his _many_ faults, then Petunia must be _very_ love-struck indeed to have married Vernon Dursley.

"I don't want to imagine their honeymoon," her American cousin laughed beside her. "Squish squish. Vernon might break poor Petunia in half!"

Lily let her head thunk down on the table and groaned. Desiree reminded her in many ways of James Potter: she was obnoxious, flippant, vain, and convinced the whole world knew who she was. She was considered the prettiest one in the family, with burnt sienna ringlets and long eyelashes, but Lily thought she wore too much make-up and not enough clothing. Lily prided herself on her intelligence and didn't care much for vanity. Unfortunately Desiree had taken it upon herself to make sure Lily looked "acceptable" for the wedding (her own words), which meant that Lily was smothered in more makeup than a hooker in the red light district, and her usually wild hair had been hair-sprayed into submission. In fact, Desiree treated Lily like a Barbie doll: every time she visited she delighted in practicing applying make-up and doing hair and dressing her in ridiculous outfits as if she were a pet lapdog. The mere memory made her wince in phantom pain. She doubted her hair would ever recover from being so violently tamed and subdued with a curling iron, or her eyebrows from the radical plucking, or if the waterproof eyeliner would _ever_ come off! The caked-on makeup made her feel dirty and its chemical scent make her sneeze. Lily did not understand the point of makeup at all: it was supposed to make your more attractive to the opposite sex, but what would happen at the end of the day when the makeup comes off? She was a firm believer in a clean face, but Desiree loved to tart herself (and others) up.

Lily grit her teeth and bore her solely for family's sake; otherwise she would have snapped long ago from her constant make-overs and discussion of all the boys she dated, the cutest celebrities she really wanted to meet when she was a famous actress slash singer, the newest eye shadow colours, all the clothing she buys and doesn't she think the bridesmaid dresses are really _so_ adorable but we should be allowed to shorten the hemline, it's nearly past our knees?

"NO," Lily nearly shouted, but bit her tongue when her mother sent her a reproachful look from across the room. Instead she said stiffly, "I don't really know why Petunia chose these dresses, they're not – really – my – style."

Desiree frowned and examined the dress she was wearing critically. "Oh, I don't know, I think it could be worse." She stood up and twirled in her stilettos. Lily nearly vomited.

The Dress, as Lily called it in her mind, was made from a sort of strange mossy green silk fabric with the regrettable appearance of being doused in an oil spill. Besides the colour, it was strapless and skin-tight, gathered very tightly in horizontal pleats. It was as suffocating as a bodice, and Lily felt her poor chest would be flattened and crushed beyond repair after spending the night in the dress (not that she had much to flatten, though; nature had made sure she had absolutely NO problems in that area). Desiree, on the other hand, had somehow found a way to look as though she was on her way to go clubbing and wandered accidentally into a wedding reception (Not only that, but her ample cleavage was on display, which only served to make Lily wonder why nature had granted _that_ part of the anatomy generously to every female Evans except herself). On top of it all, she towered in stilettos, while Lily had to make do in sensible, very low-heeled mary janes. Petunia hadn't trusted her to wear anything with a heel higher than a half-inch.

In fact, after performing her bridesmaid's duties, Lily had been relegated to a small table in the corner of the room, because no one trusted Lily, at all. Her entire childhood was punctuated by bizarre incidents and mysterious mishaps ordinary clumsiness could not explain; it drove her parents crazy as they sent her to dance classes, yoga lessons, even an acting coach in desperation, hoping she would absorb some poise, grace, or at least charisma. After she got her Hogwarts letter, she thought her family would let up, since obviously the unexplainable accidents that occurred throughout the years were merely outbursts of accidental magic. However her family still firmly held the idea that a magical klutz is still a klutz, and a klutz is not to be trusted at any important events.

Her cousin Desiree (who always decided to fly in from America at the most inopportune moments) was also exiled to the sidelines. It wasn't that Petunia feared any accidental clumsiness from her part; rather she was afraid of what she would do _on purpose. _Desiree was the kind of person who would take it upon themselves to "liven" up a party, usually disastrously. This meant while the rest of the wedding party and guests were conga dancing throughout the banquet hall, the two girls were banished to social Siberia – that being beside the buffet table. Besides her less than graceful history, Lily suspected that she was being foisted off as Desiree's babysitter; the reason being that Petunia had said to her, "Desiree finds trouble, and trouble finds you. But at least you've got half a brain to get _out of it_, unlike her! So make sure she doesn't ruin the happiest day of my life, got it?"

Lily sighed at the thought of her sister. Her nubile, intelligent sister, marrying someone so utterly _wrong for her_…

"Here, have some champagne," Desiree said, flashing her a brilliant smile. Lily scowled. "Oh come on, it's half a glass. I promise you, you're not going to end up like Great-Auntie Kath." The two gazed upon the tiny, grey-haired woman trying to sing in Chinese atop her chair.

Lily conceded and took a sip. Ooh, fizzy.

"I thought it might take your mind off the wedding," Desiree continued. "Since we have been basically uninvited to the reception. You'll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that, you know."

Lily's hand twitched. Potter had made a similar comment last month, and she hadn't stopped herself from slapping him across the face. But this was her cousin, she reminded herself, and violence was _not_ the answer! At least, not this time.

"Perhaps I'll just go back to the hotel room and finish my new book – " Lily mumbled, eyes flicking over to the exit as she wondered if it was really worth sitting with Desiree for another three hours.

"Oh no you're not!" Desiree interrupted loudly. "You are not leaving me alone here! Please, Lily, I promise we can talk about whatever you like. Er, like, bookshops. And history. I learnt about Napoleon last semester! He was very insecure about being short, he even has a complex named after himself."

Lily whimpered and reached for the champagne. It was going to be a _long_ night.

-

It was getting late and the guests were beginning to act more and more rowdy. Even Lily and Desiree seemed to be enjoying themselves by the buffet table. Petunia narrowed her eyes and craned her neck. What on earth were those two girls doing, giggling in the corner? They usually couldn't stand to be near each other. Still, perhaps marital bliss extended to members of the immediate family. She let a slow smile steal over her face as she gazed towards her new husband. If the girls felt a fraction like she did, why, she could not wonder at their high spirits.

In fact, she felt slightly guilty for excluding the girls from the wedding so much. True, Lily tended to have uncontrolled outbursts of the magical variety, and their cousin Desiree was often accused of purposely stirring the pot for her own entertainment, but they both had good hearts. They deserved to enjoy the wedding as much as she was. Making up her mind, she beckoned to her husband. "Come here Vernon, I don't believe you have been properly introduced to my American cousin. And we should bring Lily a slice of cake…"

-

"Incoming," Desiree giggled. "Girl bearing gifts."

Lily laughed at that. Beware Greeks bearing gifts. Except the Greek was her sister and her gift was a serving of wedding cake. "And she's got her husband with her. Oh bollocks! Why did she marry that… that…" she trailed off, losing her train of thought.

"I KNOW, he's just so – " Desiree paused, taking a gulp from her glass, "fat!"

"Why did she marry him?" Lily moaned. "It's a bad decision, a very very bad decision, bad…"

"Why don't you tell her?" her cousin suggested glibly. Lily blinked. That made sense. Petunia was her only sister, after all. It was her duty, and sisterly right, to – say whatever she wanted. Right? "Right," she answered herself loudly.

Petunia approached, looking at her strangely. "What's right? Here Lily, Vernon and I brought you some cake!"

"Cake?" Lily said forcefully, standing up sharply and sending her chair crashing to the floor. "Cake!"

Petunia stared at her in dismay. "Oh, Desiree, you didn't – "

"Now listen here, Petunia Evans, Dursley, Dursley-Evans, Durslevans, Evursley?" Lily faltered, then turned to Vernon, who was staring at her in a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. "Vernon, YOU. ARE. A. PIG."

Right after the words left her mouth Lily knew she should not have said them. It was like watching the scene unfold in slow motion: Vernon's face flushed red as he opened his mouth, Petunia overcome with shock and anger, and her own mouth refused to stop spewing out words. "You are a disgusting, rotund, corp – carp – corpulent man! _Oink!_"

Inanely, she pictured her sister's husband as a pig, and decided viciously that while he was a terrible-looking man, he would make an agreeable pig. He would probably sell very well as a Christmas ham. That was when the real trouble started, because at that moment Vernon began howling and clutching at his bottom.

Petunia's fear chased away her shock. "LILY, WHAT DID YOU DO?" In dismay, Lily realized she had had another bout of accidental magic, as she caught sight of the curly pig's tail emerging from Vernon's trousers.

The guests who weren't completely soused out of their minds began to look over at the commotion. Thankfully Desiree was on the floor rolling with laughter (the combination of wine and Lily's words had caused her to fall off her chair) and didn't notice the pig – er, Vernon.

"GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!" The man was bawling, flailing violently and upsetting the punch bowl all over his shirt and breaking a leg of the buffet table, sending the crockery crashing to the ground.

"CHANGE IT BACK, YOU FREAK!" Petunia was screaming tearfully, running towards her husband before slipping on bruschetta and tearing her dress.

It all would have been dreadfully funny to Lily, if only it wasn't happening to _her_. Trying to think through her slightly tipsy state, Lily knew she didn't have her wand on her, and tried to cast some wandless magic. Except she couldn't remember how. So she clenched her eyes tight, waved her hands slowly in front of her, and hoped for the best. Soon, she felt a warm sensation creeping up her hands and thought, _I did it!_

"What the _hell_ are you doing!" shrieked Desiree with laughter, who had managed to crawl out from underneath the table. "Why are you sticking your arms in the stracciatella soup?"

Lily cracked her eyes open. Damn, so she was. Quickly she removed her hands from the bowl of soup and tried again.

This time Vernon started yelping in relief, patting himself reassuringly to make sure he was still of sound mind and body. Petunia flung herself sobbing over her husband. By now the guests were thoroughly bewildered by the chaos, and Lily had to admit the place was a right mess. Even her parents were tottering over, drunk, calling pitifully for Petunia to calm down.

"Oh Vernon! Our first challenge as husband and wife and we got through it!" she blubbered into his shoulder, while he patted her awkwardly. Then Petunia raised her head and glared daggers at Lily and Desiree. "_You two._ Get – out – NOW!"

Lily felt the first stirrings of remorse and decided to express her regret to her sister, but Desiree took the warning for what it was and wasted no time in grabbing Lily's arm and making their getaway.

-

When the two girls had safely escaped the banquet hall and found themselves standing outside on a warm summer night, Lily turned to Desiree. "Why did you make me leave? I have to talk to Petty!"

Desiree snorted. "You do realize I just saved your life, right? If looks could kill, sorry honey but we'd be digging you a grave."

Lily sighed loudly out of frustration. "You wouldn't understand! She's my sister, and even though _you_ got me tipsy enough to tell Dursley exactly what I think of him, I have to deal with him for her sake!"

"Don't even try to blame this on me, believe me, it was all you." Desiree shook her head. "Why does it even matter? She wanted us to leave, we did. At least it's an excuse to get out of that god awful place."

Lily pursed her lips. Oh, it was all fine for Desiree. _She_ didn't have to deal with Petunia at the end of the day; _she_ just took a plane back home to America. "Maybe I care about her because she's my _sister_ and I feel terrible about what I did," she snapped back. "It's already so hard, I don't want her to hate me for what I am – " Lily stopped, remembering that Desiree didn't know about magic or Hogwarts.

"Are you kidding me?" Desiree rolled her eyes. "If she hates you for telling the truth about her dud of a husband, then she's not much of a sister."

Lily thought that over, but the implications were too uncomfortable to dwell on, and changed the subject. "Well then what do you suggest we do now?" she retorted. "I guess if we knock long enough someone sober will come and open the door – "

"Oh no we're not. The night is young and I am NOT wasting it on the doorstep of a wedding reception." Desiree stared up into the night sky. "I'm guessing it's only what, 9 o'clock. And they're all going to be living it up until the wee hours of the morning, so we have plenty of time to kill." Desiree shot Lily a grin. "Time to explore London and environs. I've got my eye on that club down the road. Think we can get in?"

"You have got to be kidding me. You turned seventeen two weeks ago!"

"Watch and learn, cousin dear." Desiree smirked, before tugging the neckline of her dress lower and shaking out her hair. "Pass me some lippie, will you."

-

"What do you mean, explore Muggle London?" James asked sceptically, as he bit off the leg of his chocolate frog.

Sirius leaned forward excitedly. "Exactly that, old chap! Tonight's the night. Your parents are off at that Ministry ball, they're not coming back 'til late, and when have they ever cared about where we run off to?"

James smirked. "Ah, the benefits of being an only child."

"You mean they spoil your arse off, you wanker?" Sirius retorted amicably. "So hurry up. Are we going or not?"

James hesitated. While he prided himself on being open-minded towards Muggles, the truth was he had never actually _met_ one, let alone set foot in the Muggle world. Sirius was even worse, but he was always desperately eager to learn as much as he could about Muggles. Still, was it a good idea to go traipsing around Muggles at night without his parents giving them permission or even knowing where they were?

"Thomas, that seventh-year Gryffindor, told me Muggle girls walk around _naked_," Sirius added, waggling his eyebrows.

Thinking time over. Standing up quickly (and sending a small avalanche of crumpled candy wrappers falling off his lap to the floor), he declared, "The matter is settled. Padfoot and Prongs are meant to walk among Muggles!"

Sirius laughed. Ol' Jimmy was getting _so predictable_.

-

"That could've went better," Lily complained bitterly after the bouncer forcibly escorted them to the sidewalk. "How embarrassing!"

Desiree rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, we were so close to getting in. The bouncer was _this_ close to letting us in the club until you opened your big fat mouth!"

"Letting _you_ in, you mean. After all your chest is this close to POPPING OUT OF YOUR DRESS!" Lily shouted.

"Using feminine charm isn't a crime! There's a little thing you might have heard of called _Woman's Lib!_ We don't all have to be future housewives like you!"

"You're not a _feminist_, you're just encouraging sexist stereotypes! And I'm not a future housewife, just responsible, a word you clearly don't know the meaning of!"

The two girls glared at each other for a long, tense moment. "Fine, maybe sneaking into a club wasn't the best idea," Desiree admitted with clenched teeth. Lily harrumphed in agreement. "But _still,_" Desiree continued, "Don't you have any sense of fun at all? Can't you just cut loose for _one minute_ and stop being so UPTIGHT?"

Her words echoed what Potter had told her a month ago at the start of summer hols, right after she had reported him smuggling firewhisky into the Gryffindor Tower and she slapped him (not for the first time) for making a lewd suggestion involving the alcohol in question and a broom closet. Potter had berated her dreadfully, and it had been the first time in a long time since he had said such harsh words to her (for all her accusations of Potter being a bully, she had to admit he had toned it down from his previous cruelty). And then when Lily confided/complained to her roommates in Gryffindor, for once they didn't take her side. It had been an uncomfortable moment, when her friends (usually so supportive!) couldn't meet her eyes and started calling out things like, "Oh dear where has my crystal ball gone I think I left it in the Great Hall!" and "I suppose I shall just jump out of this window and go for a broom ride." All to change the subject and avoid that line of questioning.

Lily had to wonder. Was she uptight and straight laced? She didn't _feel_ like an annoying, rule-worshipping teacher's pet. She just completed all her homework early, worked on extra-credit projects, sought guidance from the professors, tried to use her authority as a Prefect to guide the students of Hogwarts with a gentle but firm hand, respected the rules and appreciated the values it gave to their lives…

Oh _no_. She really was uptight and straight-laced and neurotic and every other word the Marauders had ever called her. When had it happened? She was _studious_, she was _responsible_… How had she turned into someone so annoying?

"I _am_ uptight," she moaned in distress. "I can't even enjoy myself at a wedding for god's sake. I am going to turn into a grumpy old biddy – who lives with fifty cats and never has any fun, _none at all_ – "

"No, no, you're right too," Desiree lamented. "Nobody ever takes me seriously because I'm not smart at all, not like you Lily, and I'm failing math and I have probably got no future ahead of me, I may have to become a lesbian gym teacher and never marry and grow a moustache!"

The two girls commiserated and hugged and had a small crying fit before subsiding to sniffles and wiping off their smeared mascara. They looked at each other.

"Well, I stole a bottle from the bar at the reception, if you're interested," Desiree said, looking slightly ashamed as she pulled a bottle from her dress.

Lily sighed. "Pass it over. With the way my life is going I am doomed to be an alcoholic anyways."

-

"Are you ready mate?" James asked.

Sirius paused, head cocked to one side like a puppy, eyes closed (most likely picturing naked Muggle girls). James had to agree that while the prospect of nudity was exciting, he still had a faint niggling feeling that Thomas could be pulling their legs… but why would the older Muggleborn lie about something so obviously _important?_

Finally Sirius opened his eyes and began rocking back and forth on his heels. "Prongs, we are embarking on a wondrous journey to a brave new world. We are stepping out where few, nay, _no_ wizard has stepped before!"

James chortled. "Padfoot, you make it sound like we're first-years on our way to Hogwarts."

Sirius punched him in the shoulder. "Ah, but instead of magical mayhem that awaits us, it's naked ladies!"

"Have you ever _seen_ a Muggle?"

The question caught Sirius off-guard. "Well, yes, that is to say, not _exactly_, but I know some Muggleborns, and they can't be all that different, can they?"

James hesitated, tugging on his shirt and dungarees. "'Course not, I just dunno if what we're wearing will blend in."

"Stop your non-believing ways, and trust in your dear old friend Padfoot. When have I ever let you down?"

"Let me count the ways," James said wryly. "Well it's now or never."

For the first time in their lives, the two teenagers left the Leaky Cauldron through the Muggle entrance, and entered a strange new London they had never encountered before.

"Oy, you pansies! Think yer Shakespeare with them ruffles?" a passer-by shouted, words slurred.

The two looked at each other. "Perhaps the lace was a bit much," ventured James.

"Forgot the lace. Who the hell is Shakespeare?"

-

The bottle was half-gone, with both girls taking periodic swigs as they wandered down the streets of downtown London. The drink loosened their tongues and Lily felt a pleasant buzzing in her head as the girls commiserated.

"Parents," sighed Desiree. "The whole reason I fly to London so much, y'know? I'm only important when one of them is using me against the other."

"My whole family's nutters," Lily commented sourly. "Petty is so _pretty_ and _smart_ and she ends up with Mister Pig. If that's the best she can do then I am definitely becoming an old maid."

"No, no, I analyzed the whole situation, Cousin Pet's the kind who has a ten-year plan, you know? Dudley's _her_ idea of a perfect husband; he's got that job making drills. And she wants a kid before she's twenty-two so she has to get started soon."

Lily sighed, and stumbled.

"Here, let's rest on this park bench for a moment," Desiree said. "My stilettos are killing me!"

After a moment of silence, Lily started again. "I always thought Petty understood me. But after today, I don't think – I don't think she'll ever want to talk to me again – " To her embarrassment, she hiccupped and began to sob.

"There there, Petty will get over it. Here, have some more," Desiree handed the bottle over.

" – But I couldn't help it, drinking too much champagne was just an excuse to tell her what I really think of Vernon – " she paused and gulped from the bottle. " – And this summer was supposed to be a good time away from school but it was a total disaster, and I think for the first time ever I don't want to go back to school in September, because I know I'm going to have a terrible time thanks to the bloody _James Potter_ – "

"James Potter? What, he an ex-boyfriend?" Desiree offered a handkerchief to Lily.

Lily blew her nose. "That would never happen, but he bloody well loves ruining my life anyways. He always runs with his posse of friends, causing trouble but nobody, not even the teachers say anything because he's so ruddy _popular_ and everyone loves him and of course there's not a single thing wrong with him Lily, why would you ever think that!" Lily realized she had descended into petty sarcasm but couldn't seem to stop. "Out of everything he could do, he _pranks_ people, yes what a fantastic use of his talents!"

Desiree snorted. "Sounds like love," she tittered.

"No, I hate him," Lily insisted. "He scares the children and disrupts class and teases me and always runs his fingers through his messy hair – "

"You know if he makes fun of you, that means he likes you," teased Desiree.

"Oh, do shut up," Lily said unpleasantly. "I would kill you if you weren't holding the alcohol right now." She kicked off her painful shoes and massaged her tender feet.

At that Desiree laughed outright. "I will corrupt you yet, Lily-Flower."

The nickname reminded her of the Marauders and Lily opened her mouth to reply, but was soon distracted by yells originating from down the street.

"What on earth…" she mumbled, leaning forward and swaying slightly. It was late at night but people still walked the streets, and the busy thoroughfare still had many cars whizzing by. Tourists, bar-hoppers, and clubbers alike were out and about, most intoxicated. Obviously one of the drunks was causing some sort of disturbance across the road.

"It's like the Knight Bus but EVERYWHERE!" someone was screaming incoherently. Lily felt her stomach sink.

"They're running through traffic," Desiree said incredulously, squinting their eyes.

It was true. Somebody was dashing across the busy London road, causing several near collisions, slammed brakes and honking horns. Yelled curses and obscenities from the drivers floated up to the girls' ears.

"No, it's two people," Desiree amended. "Why don't they just cross at the crosswalk instead of zigzagging?"

Lily didn't hear her. "No. Bloody. Way." She groaned. "It can't possibly be – "

-

" – JAMES!" Sirius shouted, pale-faced. "I'm scared! AND THERE'S NO NAKED LADIES!"

"I don't understand! Why won't they stop!" James screamed as the Muggle vehicle stopped inches from his toes. "Foul beasts!"

The two friends darted through traffic. The cacophony of horns, blaring lights, shouted swearwords and raucous laughter left them dazed and confused. "What are these Muggle monsters?" yelled Sirius. "I don't know! I wish I hadn't cut Muggle Studies so much!" James shouted in reply.

James spotted a park, where none of the machines seemed to go. "Salvation!" he screamed, and the duo ran for their lives towards the safety of the trees.

"We did it," wheezed James. "We survived."

"Say," panted Sirius, gesturing behind James, "Isn't that Lily Evans?"

-

"You know them?" Desiree asked, making a valiant attempt at stifling her laughter.

"It's Potter and Black," she moaned.

Desiree stared. "What the hell are they _wearing?_"

-

James stared. _That_ was _Evans_?

The Evans he knew from Hogwarts was frumpy, overbearing, and just a tad neurotic. She had nice hair and unusual eyes; he would give her that. But he was used to seeing her with her hair plaited severely, figure covered by robes, and scolding him for doing something or other.

But now, here she was in front of him, relaxing barefoot on a bench, fiery hair tumbling in loose curls, and makeup on her face. She was wearing a strapless dress cut down to _there_, with a _bottle_ in her hand and was that cleavage he was seeing?!

Evans, no, _Lily_, sighed and licked her lips.

He stared at her lips. Her sweet, luscious, pink lips.

"Oh knock off Potter, stop staring. Have you _seen_ what you two are wearing?" she looked askance. "Are those leather chaps? And rain boots?"

"Is that a bottle of Firewhiskey? And where are your shoes?" Sirius swooped in when it became obvious that James would be doing his impression of a gaping fish indefinitely.

Lily blushed (she _blushed_ at _Sirius, _James was already planning his slow death) but the girl beside her answered for her. "Bacardi rum actually, Firewhiskey sounds like something you just made up. I don't know what bet you lost but you look ridiculous."

"Miss Evans, it was very rude of you not to introduce me to this lovely flower. American, are you? I am the one and only Sirius Black." Sirius took Desiree's hand and pressed it to his lips as he performed an exaggerated bow.

Desiree looked distinctly unimpressed.

"Potter, are you alright?" Lily asked him in a half-whisper.

"Uh – er, call me James," he said, putting on his best sloppy grin and messing up his hair.

Lily gave him an odd look, the kind of look that said, "Are you well?" Checking to make sure Desiree was suitably distracted by Sirius' antics, she grabbed James' sleeve and pulled him down to her height. "Now what in Merlin's name are you two doing in _Muggle London_?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time…" Then realizing how pathetic he sounded, James added, "We can handle anything the Muggle world throws at us!"

Lily raised an eyebrow at that and said coolly, "I highly doubt that. You realize that you don't even know how to cross a road properly?"

James' face burned. Lily sighed again. "Well it doesn't matter. You two have to get back to Diagon Alley right away. Desiree's my cousin and she's a Muggle, and besides I don't want you to ruin my night more than it already is!"

"Get your _greasy_ paws off me!" Desiree's annoyed exclamation interrupted Lily's words.

"Well, you see, I _would_ go back to Diagon Alley," Right, fat chance of that happening. James was planning on staying with Lily as long as possible… "But we're lost, right? And we didn't bring our wands. Can't you help us, Lily?" He gave her his best puppy-dog eyes.

"What kind of irresponsible idiots are you, not even bringing your wands!" Lily hissed. James smiled. She looked gorgeous when she was angry.

"Fine," Lily threw up her hands. "I'll help you. But couldn't you have worn something better to blend in with?"

James stared down at his bright red, open ruffled shirt, leather chaps, and yellow rain boots. "Sirius told me this is how Muggle dress. I suppose the hat was a bit much?" he asked, touching the sombrero on his head.

Lily winced. "You don't have a clue about Muggles," she said crossly.

A wet, smacking noise made them both turn around. Desiree and Sirius were snogging furiously on the park bench.

"Well that was fast," Lily said, making a face. "Thought my cousin would resist that mongrel for at least half an hour."

James suppressed his laughter, wondering how Padfoot would react to _that_ description. "Yeah, he needs a muzzle," he grinned.

Lily looked surprised but still giggled. "I thought you would hex me for saying that about your best friend."

"The trouble he gets in is all his fault. His ex-girlfriends make sure of that." James half-shrugged. "Besides, I would never hex someone holding a bottle of booze. Common courtesy."

She looked adorably surprised, then embarrassed. "Right… well, do you want some, then?"

He grinned and took a long swig. "I've never seen you like this, Evans. I had you pinned as a goodie-goodie." Bugger, he meant to say Lily, not Evans…

She pursed her lips. "Perhaps you only saw what you expected to see," she offered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Hogwarts is a big place. I don't think we've had more than three real conversations together since first year."

"That doesn't count you yelling at me, does it?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She smiled back sweetly. "And that doesn't count you pranking me."

"Touché." He drank more of the rum. Feeling emboldened by the drink and Sirius' example (if Sirius can get a girl in five minutes flat then it must be possible for him), he asked suddenly, "Ev – Lily, want to go to Hogsmeade together when we get back to Hogwarts?"

"Potter, it will take a lot more than intoxication to get me to date you."

_Ouch_. The girl had a mouth on her. Still, he gave her a dazzling grin and said, "I'm sure I'll wear you down yet. Cheers," then downed the rest of the rum, laughing at her petulant expression.

"You could have left some for me!"


	2. Potter 1 and Potter 2, Pt 1

**A/N: **Whoa this turned out to be way more about Harry than I expected. It jumps around a bit but that's because I can't be bothered to write more transition scenes. And yes, Lily is quite possibly twice as neurotic as Hermione. I have more written but it's ridiculously long and STILL not finished so I decided to go halfers.

**Chapter Two: Potter 1 and Potter 2, Part 1**

Sometimes Harry swore he was cursed. If Voldemort wasn't long dead and gone, he would have blamed him for his misfortunes – as it turned out, Harry rather wished Voldemort _was_ still around, if only so Harry could blame his unluckiness on a spell, or perhaps some nefarious potion. Unfortunately, the only person Harry had to blame was himself.

This was one of those times. He seemed to have an uncanny knack for getting into sticky situations, and for Harry it was a kind of chicken-or-the-egg question: was he forever getting into trouble thanks to a lifetime of run-ins with Voldemort, or was his patent unluckiness the real reason Voldemort ever targeted him in the first place? It was an interesting thought, and he had half a mind of discussing it over with Hermione; it was too bad he had asked her about time travel first because now he didn't think he could face her again without blushing wildly.

It had been the result of his restlessness. Voldemort was gone, the Death Eaters flushed out, the wizarding world was reconstructing – and there was nothing left for him to _do_. He had almost dragged Hermione and Ron into the depths of the Amazon (he had heard rumours of a dark wizard hiding out with headhunting tribes, so what if Dung wasn't the most reliable source) but Ginny had stopped him from sending the owl and instead took him on a whirlwind round-the-world vacation. It had been perfect – he could finally experience parts of the world he had only heard about without being dogged by a Dark Lord. His only complaint was that the whole thing was over too soon. When they had gotten back, Ron had set him up as an Auror, but that had soon fizzled out after he had found out how much he hated paperwork and sitting behind a desk (he had had enough of desks at Hogwarts, thank you). Turns out the Ministry wouldn't dare send out the Great Harry Potter out on field missions on the off chance he'd get killed in action. Hermione had recruited him as the Ministry's ambassador to magical creatures, promising him adventure and new experiences. Unfortunately his complete lack of knowledge led him to commit several cultural faux pas when meeting with magical creatures (most of whom were unimpressed as his status as the Great Harry Potter and had promptly chased him off of their land). After another close call with the werewolves, Shacklebolt had fire-called him personally to gently persuade him (with the full power of Minister of Magic behind him, of course) to pursue a different career. After that, he tried out professional Quidditch, but the players' endless jockeying for higher salaries and the constant media blitz sapped the soul out of the sport. Plus Ginny put the kibosh on that after one too many owls bearing undergarments from overenthusiastic groupies interrupted their breakfast.

It had frustrated him endlessly that Hermione and Ron were perfectly happy with their lives, and he had said as much.

"Well, you _did_ spend your entire childhood wanting to be a normal teenager, perhaps you could take advantage of your now ordinary life?" she had offered, shooting him a look that clearly said, "Be careful what you wish for, you dunce".

Over the years he had become immune to her patented Looks, and promptly ignored it. "I know that," he grumbled. "I didn't realize that without Voldemort around, life would be so _boring_."

Hermione exhaled slowly and massaged her temples with her fingers, something she usually did around Ron. "What happened to settling down and starting a family?" she asked him pointedly. "Didn't you say you wanted a family the size of the Weasleys?"

"I'm only twenty!" was his knee-jerk reaction. Then he added, "I want to get a real career going before we get married. Besides, I…"

"Besides _what_, Harry?" Hermione prodded exasperatedly.

"Well… I don't know much about children, really, and I have no idea how I could _ever_ become a father…" Harry trailed off. "Stop looking at me like that Hermione. The Dursleys weren't the best role models when it came to parenting."

Hermione had been giving him one of her impressive pitying looks, (which somehow ranged the spectrum from Oh-Harry-that-is-utter-nonsense to Oh-Harry-you-poor-orphan-boy, all blended together in her large brown eyes) but at his words she quickly rearranged her expression into rightful indignation.

"Oh _Harry,_" – yes, the pitying had transferred over into words, "You had Sirius! And Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have always treated you like their own."

"I can't even imagine Sirius babysitting me when I was young, he was such a bachelor," he replied shaking his head. "And I know I'm the Weasleys' adopted son. Still… I just wish I could talk to _my_ dad and ask him how he did it, how he decided he was ready to be a father." He laughed with only a hint of bitterness. "Pity you gave back your Time-Turner Hermione, but even that wouldn't take me back years into the past."

Her silence was more telling than words.

"You _did_ give it back Hermione – " he swung around with a furrowed brow. Hermione waved him off, distracted, as her searching eyes roved across her teetering bookcase. "Can you cook us up some lunch, Harry? I can never get my grilled cheese to turn out as well as yours – " She was already lost in her own world, scanning through the titles of her impressive array of books and already tugging out a few to form a pile on her desk. Harry recognized when Hermione was trying to get him out of the way nicely, and beat a quick path to the kitchen.

He took his time cooking, but besides the time it took to hunt down her frying pan (why on earth had she put it in the silverware drawer?) it really didn't take very long to fry up the grilled cheese sandwiches. However when he eased back into Hermione's study-cum-library with the tray, she had already whipped up a frenzy and was scribbling complicated equations on parchment. "Oh thanks Harry, just set it down on the desk," she said absent-mindedly, flipping through a ridiculously old tome.

Bemused, Harry began munching on his lunch. "Are you going to tell me what you're doing anytime soon?"

Hermione paused. "Did you mean what you said before?"

"About what?" he shot back, suddenly wary.

"About time travel," she huffed impatiently. "Honestly I can't understand how Ginny deals with you…"

He ignored that last bit on the basis that her and Ron fought like cats and dogs all the time so what did she know about relationships? "You don't still have the Time-Turner, do you, Hermione…" he asked dubiously. "From what I recall from my regrettably short career as an Auror, I'm pretty sure it's ten forms of illegal, especially since the Ministry's supply all got smashed during fifth year…"

Hermione flapped her hand with irritation. "What rot, obviously I gave it back Harry, and besides a Time-Turner wouldn't work, it goes back _hours_, not _years_…"

The glint in her eye scared him, so he tried to divert the conversation back to safer topics. "If you're not going to eat it, I will," he informed her solemnly, pointing to the leftover sandwich.

She ignored him again. "I first came across it in third year, when I was researching time travel, strictly a side project of course –" Harry shuddered. He knew what her side projects were like. "- But it was only mentioned in the texts at Hogwarts, naturally they wouldn't dare keep knowledge like that, even in the Restricted Section – and of course it wasn't sold in the Diagon Alley bookshop, I'd had to have gone into Knockturn for that, which was a death wish for all Muggleborns, but when we were cleaning out Grimmauld Place, there were quite a bit of books on the Dark Arts that got cleared away, for our safety, but when I caught sight of it I couldn't help myself, I mean – well! It's not even really dark, but it _would_ be dangerous in the wrong hands – but I couldn't bear to see it locked up in some dank vault, when all those words were just begging to be read – "

"_You stole Sirius' book?"_

"It was hardly stealing, I merely appropriated for _research_ – and I don't think he really would have cared, he _was_ a Marauder. It's not like he even used it, anyways," she countered defensively.

He shook his head in amazement. "Somehow, I am not at all shocked," he said dryly. "So what was so special about this book you had to steal it?"

"Harry, it was a third edition of _Xes Cigam!_" At his blank look, she continued, "Roughly translated, the title means something like Soul Rituals. It's an ancient tantric text dealing with old magic, the kind the wizarding world has lost over the years. It's a priceless artefact, though I doubt Sirius even knew what it was, since it's written in shorthand runes."

"And let me guess, you translated it in two weeks flat."

"Ten days actually, but it was a slow summer."

"Right, we were only running around destroying Horcruxes."

"Harry, spare me your pitiful attempts at witty banter," Hermione sniffed. "Anyways, the only thing about this book that concerns _you_ at the moment is a little-known, long-forgotten ritual, used for _travelling backwards in time_."

"What's the point? Time-Turners are bloody useful. We don't _need_ an ancient ritual."

"For travelling _years_ back into time, you do!" Hermione interjected excitedly.

For a long time, he was gaping silently, 'til he found his voice and asked, raggedly, "Do you… I mean… Is this what I think it is?"

Hermione nodded impatiently. "Well since it's impossible to actually travel so far back, your magic takes a sliver of our universe and creates a pocket alternate universe of the timeline. Your magic supports it entirely so when you return to your own time, the universe folds in on itself and rejoins _our_ universe. But in all other regards, it's the same thing. It's the same people; it's the same places. The only new factor would be _you_, which is why it's an _alternate_ universe, because it prevents temporal paradoxes -"

"Hermione!" Harry interrupted. "I don't _care_ about the theory or the science behind it! Just tell me if it works! Can I travel back in time, by years?"

"It's an _extremely_ complex ritual Harry – " At his glare she quickly changed tack. "In other words, yes," she grumbled.

"That's – that's – that's bloody _amazing_, Hermione! Why haven't we done this already?" His mind was already spinning through the possibilities. He wouldn't have to rely on others for memories of his parents – he could _meet_ them and _touch_ them and hear their voices -

Hermione coughed delicately. "Well, the ritual needs two participants plus the caster, and since I'm the only one who can actually perform the ritual… besides, at seventeen I didn't think we were _quite_ mature enough -"

"Why do you say that?" he asked. "Merlin Hermione, this would've saved me so much time – "

" – and I didn't think Ginny would be willing to have sex in public at that point in time – what?" she asked, at the look on his face. "Who _else_ would? Don't look at me Harry, I have a fantastic sex life."

Harry did a good impression of a goldfish.

"It's ancient _sex magic,_ what did you expect," she asked exasperatedly. "Honestly, you'd think you were adult enough to handle the mere _mention_ of _sex_ – "

"Stop – saying – that _word!_" Harry whispered hoarsely. "I don't even want to _think_ about you and Ron – eugh! You're – _you_ – and Ron's – bloody hell - "

Hermione turned her back on him and began scribbling away on her parchment. "Harry, it's impossible to discuss things rationally with you when you're like this." She said calmly. "Come back when you've regained control over your mental faculties."

He stumbled out of the room, as Hermione threw out after him, "Besides, it's not like the whole Weasley family hasn't heard you and Ginny going at it in the broomstick shed!"

-

"You want us to have sex."

"We have fun together, don't we?" Harry shrunk under her glare. "Sorry."

"You want us to have sex _in front of Hermione_."

Harry winced as Ginny crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

"It's only Hermione – it's not like it's the entire Order or anything – "

The redhead gave him a look that could have chilled ice. "There is _nothing_ you can possibly say to justify this," she hissed.

-

" – And then I told her I'd marry her," Harry finished.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "So that's how you got her to do it," she said knowingly. "It's about time. I hope you got on one knee and everything?"

Harry grimaced at the memory. "It was more of last-ditch effort than anything else. I think the question went something like, 'If I asked you to marry me would that justify it?' I had to transfigure my sock into a ring, but after she accepted she refused to wear it on the grounds that it smelled funny."

"Well, at least you finally committed," Hermione tutted, shaking her head. "Though you better not give Ron any tips on how to propose. Don Juan, you're not."

"Well at least I did it," he grumbled. "You've been complaining about how Ron's been dragging his feet for what, two years now?"

"Oy, I resemble that remark," Ron shouted from the kitchen, where his head was buried in the fridge. "A bloke needs time to sow his oats and all that rot."

Hermione merely rolled his eyes. "Ronald is operating under the mistaken assumption that anyone would allow him to… sow his oats… on their person."

Ron appeared, clutching a plate stacked with leftovers scavenged from Hermione's pantry. Harry got glimpses of chicken, apple pie, and bedraggled-looking pasta. "Hermione told me about the ritual, and I have to say, go for it," he announced.

Harry's eyebrows shot up. "Really? You're okay with it? I thought you would've – " then he caught sight of Hermione motioning frantically behind Ron and shut up.

"Why wouldn't I be okay with it, mate?" Ron clapped him heavily on the shoulder. "I'm not going to make you miss out on your chance of meeting your family. Still, I'm not gonna lie, the ritual sounds bloody boring. Mindless chanting for three hours straight? That's rough." He stopped and inspected his plate. "Oh, bugger, I've forgot the ketchup."

As Ron trudged back to the kitchen, Harry whispered incredulously to Hermione, "You didn't tell him?!"

"Of course not, _I'm_ not going to be the one who tells him his baby sister is going to do the nasty with his best mate while his girlfriend watches!" she hissed back furiously.

Harry paused, thinking back upon Ron's earlier words. "Hermione? …The ritual won't _really_ have to last three hours, will it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes again, and Harry wondered if she ever got eyeball strain. "Don't be such a baby, Potter." Before Ron walked back in, she added, "Ron's ritual got a Quidditch game in Sweden this Saturday, so bring Ginny and we can do the then."

-

Hermione made an awkward situation worse when she refused to put Crookshanks outside for the duration of the ritual. "He's just a cat, and it's _his_ house, he's got a right to be here."

Harry felt vaguely dirty as Crookshanks eyed him up and down with interest. "I don't like the way he's looking at me," he mumbled to Ginny.

Ginny was still cross with him, so she gave him no satisfactory answer. "If either of you breathe a word about this, I will hunt you down and kill you, so help me Merlin I will resurrect Voldemort himself just so he can have his wicked way with you."

Harry whimpered. "Oh, don't do that darling, I've always suspected he's had a thing for little boys – "

"For the love of Merlin, stop talking and undress," Hermione commanded forcefully from where she was lighting the candles in the pentacle. Harry wondered if she was a closet dominatrix. God knows she was bossy enough.

What followed was the most awkward sex of his life. Harry tried to forget about Hermione and the ritual but that was hard to do when lying on a wooden floor inside a chalk pentacle with runes painted all over your body. Also he was pretty sure Hermione was judging his performance and mentally scribbling over his errors with red ink. She would deny it of course but her critical gazes and occasional tutting could not be ignored.

Soon, I'll be in 1981, he told himself. Soon, I'll be with my parents…

At that moment Crookshanks yawned, uncurled himself and padded lazily over to the pentacle, gave him a look of utter disdain, before quite deliberately bounding through the chalk and knocking down a candle.

The last thing Harry saw was Crookshanks satisfied smirk and Hermione scolding, _"Crookshanks! _No, _bad kitty_! You broke the circle before the ritual was comple – "

-

Harry appeared in the Headmaster's office, still naked and covered in runes. "Blasted cat," he cursed. "I don't even know if the ritual worked. Who knows what year it could be?"

"I believe I can help you with that," a jovial voice said from behind him.

Harry groaned and covered himself demurely when he turned and saw Albus Dumbledore at the entrance to his office, eyes a twinkling et al.

"The year is 1977, and I should warn you clothing is generally required to attend Hogwarts."

-

"And that's how I travelled back in time, Headmaster. "

"Interesting, interesting. I can't say I've heard anything like it, that's a very… _unique_ way to time travel." Dumbledore prodded with interest.

Harry blushed furiously. He was definitely _not_ going into the finer points of ancient sex magic to the Headmaster. "Uh, well, I can't really tell you all the details – "

Dumbledore waved his hand. "No, no, I understand. We all must take precautions to preserve the timeline." His eyes twinkled wildly at that.

"What do you mean, sir?" Harry asked cautiously. "I thought we already agreed to use an anagram as my last name."

"Indeed, I do believe using the letters of _James Potter_ to form your new last name, Temperas Jot, was a splendid idea. Wherever did you think of that?" Dumbledore chuckled. "Now I'm sure you know enough not to change the future that you don't need an hour-long lecture from me… so we'll get you Sorted and have you in your dorm by tonight. You're in your father's year, I believe?"

Harry stared at him. "Sir, I was under the impression I wouldn't stay ay Hogwarts… and maybe, uh, alter my appearance?"

"My dear boy, what ever gives you that idea?"

"Well… I am the spitting image of my father, sir… it would seem a bit suspicious, I think…"

"Harry, I don't believe you're thinking this through. This is a great opportunity to meet your parents! Of course the temptation to save their lives, warn them of future betrayals, and just generally improve their quality of life will follow you at every turn, leaving you crippled with doubt and self-loathing."

Harry backed away slowly. "Um… of course Headmaster." It was really obvious that this Dumbledore didn't know him too well, otherwise he'd known that Harry's _"saving people thing" _(thanks, Hermione, for that brilliant piece of eloquence) would never allow him to be selfish and change the timeline just so he could play house with his parents while Voldemort burnt the wizarding world to ashes.

It was that bloody cat's entire fault. Thanks to his interruption, Harry had ended up four years off his mark. He wasn't even born yet. His parents weren't married. Hell, they probably weren't even dating yet! He had been planning on either going back and convincing Hermione to redo the ritual (though on second thought, he didn't think he'd be able to go through the ordeal all over again) or simply wait out the next few years, maybe visit that island out Greece he and Ginny had spent two glorious weeks on their round-world trip… Yeah, a nice long vacation somewhere hot sounded appealing. What _didn't_ sound appealing was repeating his seventh year. Well, not that he had actually attended Hogwarts in his seventh year… But they got honorary NEWTS from the Ministry anyways, plus a whole bunch of medals. That counted for something, didn't it? It was the principle of the thing: he refused to do something he had already been credited for. What was the point? Besides, he suspected that without Hermione his marks would reflect his true lack of knowledge. And he had no excuse of, "I'm Harry Potter and I have to kill Voldemort!" to fall back on. _Damn._

Besides, no matter what the old man (bless his soul) nattered on about, Harry knew Time Travel laws didn't apply to him. He could do anything he wanted! He could stand on a table in the Great Hall and yell, "Wormtail's a snivelling rat who'll betray anyone to the Death Eaters just to save his own miserable hide!" Or maybe dance through Diagon Alley singing, "Neener neener neener, Voldemort's a half blood named Tom Riddle and his daddy never loved him!" It didn't matter. As soon as thing got hairy, all he had to do was use Ginny's magic (bonded to him as part of the ritual) as a guideline to pull himself out of his created universe. And as soon as he did, pop! His little pocket universe disappeared into oblivion, and he was safe and sound back in his proper universe, no harm done.

Unfortunately, he had no gold on him (or any clothing, for that matter). He was entirely dependent on Albus, which meant that if the Headmaster wanted him to attend Hogwarts, then gosh darn it he was attending Hogwarts!

-

Lily Evans was, quite possibly, the best Head Girl Hogwarts had ever seen. She could deal with almost anything. Hyperactive first years running off a sugar high? No problem. Neurotic upperclassmen flying off the handle before exams? That was nothing. Obstinate professors, troublesome ghosts, homesick first years, tutoring, organizing official school events (like First Year Friendship Day, where the seniors each became _buddies_ with one of the youngins!), cutting short illicit social events (like the Firewhisky parties that seemed to crop up after every Quidditch game.), dishing out discipline and serving up praise – it was all part of the responsibility of Head Girl. And Lily _liked_ being Head Girl. She loved Hogwarts, and her many duties didn't seem like chores but rather an extension of what she loved to do.

True, James Potter and his gang ran wild through Hogwarts, undoing most of her hard work and leaving behind even more problems for her to mop up. Sure, over the years she had developed an unhealthy addiction to caffeine, and maybe she had a few nervous hang-ups (like her obsession with colour-coordinating her homework planner), but she liked to think she had dealt with Potter et al the best way she could. She had a struck a happy, if tremulous, balance in her life – as long as everything _stayed as it should_.

Truthfully? Her sanity was already hanging by a thread.

Which is why Lily Evans was in a foul mood when her best friend Alice poked her in the ribs during breakfast and said, "Oy, Lily, doesn't that new kid look like James?"

There wasn't enough coffee in the world to get her to deal with two James Potters.

"I may have to become a drunk," she said aloud.

-

Will Lily turn to drink? How will James ever win her heart? And why does everyone think Harry is hitting on his mother?

TO BE CONTINUED…


End file.
